


Do you mind?

by Blue_Capricorn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eavesdropping, Embarrassed Sherlock Holmes, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Masturbation, Omorashi, POV John Watson, Sexual Fantasy, Small Penis, Tumblr Prompt, Watersports, john rubs himself against his laptop, poor laptop, the laptop had it coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 19:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21282116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Capricorn/pseuds/Blue_Capricorn
Summary: Inspired by this tumblr prompt:Sherlock and John sitting casually in 221b until Sherlock gets up from his microscope and walks down the hall to the bathroom. John tries to act cool about it, until the bathroom door closes. When it closes, John stills his fingers over the keys so the sound of his typing won't cover up the sound of Sherlock peeing.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 118





	Do you mind?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittieHill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/gifts).

> hope you like it!

John furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to re-edit the case he had typed up last night. 

It was an early morning, calm and somehow domestic. Sherlock was in the kitchen with his goggles on, peering into his microscope while John was settled in his chair with his laptop on his lap. 

Strangely, as John had recently observed, Sherlock’s presence rendered him into a state of calmness, a world where he could follow up his current task with deep rooted concentration. This, well, he hadn’t given it much thought before, but he felt that he had become hyperaware of Sherlock’s presence - or sudden absence. 

Just like yesterday, when Sherlock had left the room and John was abruptly snapped out of his thriving daze, blinking at his laptop in confusion and wondering why that kept happening to him. That’s when he realized that this odd on and off focus of his must have something to do with Sherlock. More accurately, it had something to do with him not being in the same room anylonger. 

Well, it wasn’t really a problem; John was able to get back to his task after that weird pausing in his brain happened. It was just that this pause bothered him a bit. 

He had to admit that Sherlock was more often than not the center of his attention, so he supposed this was perhaps bound to happen. Maybe John’s sub consciousness simply wanted to let him know that the detective was still safe and sound. But wasn’t this a tad extreme? 

Nevertheless, John happened to go over these thoughts again as his typing started to falter. Coincidentally, Sherlock’s presence shifted. John couldn’t see it but the detective was in fact moving, standing up with annoyance written across his face and whirling around with his dressing gown to abruptly disappear to the bathroom. 

The door snapped shut with a loud ‘pang’. 

John blinked at his white screen, not seeing any of the words that he had just typed. His fingers stilled over the keyboard, and he tilted his head lightly to the side to confirm that Sherlock indeed went to the bathroom. 

He licked his dry lips.

For some reason he felt overly curious to hear any sounds coming from said room, and so John remained in his frozen pose, fingers resting over the keyboard, quietly hoping to gauge what Sherlock was doing. 

Or what he could possibly hear him doing, knowing the detective had a handful of empty cups gathered around his table, it wasn’t a difficult guess. 

Sherlock Holmes probably needed to wee.

Never before had John paid any particular attention to Sherlock’s loo habits, but now that his mind was set on the subject it came to his attention that Sherlock rarely needed to use the loo. Even during a case, John couldn’t remember an instance where the detective had cursed about his bladder. He definitely would have noticed Sherlock disappearing for a few minutes to the bathroom. But thinking about it, John was sure that Sherlock considered this just another bodily inconvenience of the 'transport'. 

Well, but even the great detective had to relieve his bladder at some point. 

John was overcome with the sudden image of Sherlock needing to piss, whatever the stubborn git wanted to or not, it was good to know that even his detective had to go from time to time. It was a bodily function that Sherlock could not just easily ignore without facing the consequences. 

And John was quite sure that Sherlock wouldn’t let it come so far as to doing the potty dance. Though the mental picture of his flatmate becoming all desperate while holding himself tightly, strangely quickened John’s pulse. 

The sound of the toilet lid being lifted was heard; John stared transfixed at his black keyboard, barely breathing. He thought for a split moment that he could make out the snap of a waistband, but it seemed an impossible thing to hear, after all, the walls weren’t that thin. _Were they_? 

And if they were how had John never noticed before? 

Then there was a pause in which despite himself John imagined Sherlock standing in front of the toilet, pajama pants lowered and pulling out his-- 

John’s breath stuttered at the clear picture that his mind produced. Sherlock was definitely standing, and pointing his-, _oh Jesus_, holding his _cock_. 

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a soft stream hitting the porcelain bowl of the toilet. 

_Oh god_.

Sherlock was starting to piss, starting to relieve his bladder, _starting to let go_. And while he did so he was holding himself, holding his soft penis between his long, pale fingers, aiming it towards the porcelain bowl, as he focused to not make a mess, to not let one drop escape to the floor. 

John’s eyes widened when he felt himself twitch in his pants, his trousers were starting to tent, his buldge reaching out towards the heat of his laptop. He shuddered as he gently pressed his laptop against his bulge, rubbing it and stifling a gasp. 

This was a bit not good. 

But all he could think about - _hear really_ \- was Sherlock peeing, peeing at this very moment, vulnerable and despreate as he relieved himself; unaware that John was eagerly listening to his gushing stream becoming more and more steady. 

The soft hissing sound was now a noisy stream, and it made John flush up with the knowledge that he was aroused just because he was listening to- – 

Listening to the sound of--, just, _Sherlock_. 

‘Oh fuck,’ he muttered under his erratic breathing, trying to mentally finish the bloody sentence. 

He was listening to the sound of Sherlock and his _piss_, listening and hearing how his urine rushed out of his tight little piss slit, hearing how it hit and sprayed the bowl with a loud hissing noise. 

John barely registered when he had started humping his laptop. The friction was just enough to keep him from pulling out his aching cock, but even if it weren’t enough, John knew exactly what he would have done.

Trying to keep quiet, he gripped his laptop and furiously rubbed it against his clothed length, closing his eyes as he intently payed attention to the noise behind the unlocked bathroom door. 

_Unlocked bathroom door_. 

At once, John’s eyes snapped open, mouth watering at the thought that Sherlock had left the door unlocked - practically inviting John to join in and watch him. 

_Would Sherlock mind_? John shook his head, feeling stupid for wondering such a thing. Of course he’d mind, it was an invasion of privacy, no one would like that. It’s just that Sherlock constantly invaded John’s, so why can’t John just for once - 

And what? Watch how the great detective took a wee in their bathroom? 

John’s cock eagerly pulsated at the thought and his heart raced with excitement. _Christ_. But no, he just- _well_. He couldn’t because he, unlike Sherlock, respected privacy. But regardless, knowing that John could just walk up and open the door at this very instance was enough to bring him over the brink. And imagining what would happen, what he’d see definitely wasn’t any less of a turn on. 

Sherlock would be pissing helplessly as John walked in, he’d be unable to stop urinating midstream, and John would have the perfect opportunity to stand next to him, have a little glance of his lovely penis between his fingers, and see how the urine escaped the tip. 

And since fantasies had unlimited boundaries, the next thing John would do was to lean down and play with the hot, despreate stream. He’d put his finger against the gushing urine and let it spray everywhere, making a filthy mess around them. Sherlock would be distressed and try aim his stream away from John’s finger, yelling at him while John would quickly press the bare palm of his hand right against the covered head of Sherlock's penis. 

A groan went past his lips, and John was aching, achingly close of coming. He stroked his cockhead with his laptop as carefully continued to listen to Sherlock in the bathroom. It was better he never walked in, now that he was aware what he’d like to do, he’d be surprised if he were able to look Sherlock in the eye within the next few weeks. 

God he hadn’t had the slightest idea how much this turned him on. 

The streaming sound was still going strong which meant that Sherlock’s bladder must have been so full, practically on the brink of bursting. No wonder Sherlock didn’t lock the door, he must had been quite in a hurry. 

As John continued to tease himself, he absent mindedly wondered whatever Sherlock held his lovely little cock with both hands while he pissed. He really needed to catch the detective at a public urinal to find out. 

John leaned further back in his chair and slowed down the movement of his hands, not wanting to finish before the detective had fully relieved himself. Though now that John heard the first decrease of the steady stream, John was anticipating to soon hear the familiar tickle of the last drops hitting the porcelain bowl. 

The sound of Sherlock pissing slowed down. Well.

Or John thought it was slowing down until suddenly the noise became much more insistent again. 

_Jesus fucking Christ_. A lot of piss must be rushing out of Sherlock’s cock that John was sure of. His curiousity was piqued when he kept hearing a brief stutter in the strong stream, wondering exactly just what on earth Sherlock was doing while he was having a wee. A picture formed in his mind. Was his detective playing with himself while he urinated? Was Sherlock playing with himself - his despreate little cock? Was he squezzing and teasing himself until he couldn't piss anymore? Until it was too much for him?

Gasping, that thought proved to be too much for John as he bucked his hips and came with an intensity that made his eyes roll to the back of his head. Breathless with bliss, John panted with his chest heaving up and down. Bloody hell. _Sherlock_. Everything and anything to do with him apparently left John out of breath, it was beyond his own understanding. He couldn't quite believe he just got off from hearing how Sherlock took a wee in the bathroom.

With a hot face, John’s pulse gradually slowed down as did the tickling noise in the bathroom, at last coming to a halt. Despite himself, John couldn't help but imagine how the detective shook his cock, watching how the last drops of urine dribbled from the foreskin down the bowl, before moving on to tuck himself back into those damned pajamas, flushing the toilet. 

Licking his lips, John hurriedly straightened his back, putting his fingers back to his keyboard and clicking some random letters. 

Moments after Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, seemingly and hopefully not noticing anything unusual about John. 

John waited five excruciating minutes before he stopped his fake typing and put the laptop aside, grimacing at his sticky pants. Standing up, he went to the kitchen and shuffled around to boil some water whilst occasionally glancing between the detective and his microscope. Sherlock noticed of course and looked up; his curls were endearingly sticking around his goggles. 

God, he wanted to kiss him.

“John?” 

Voice sounding bemused, Sherlock must have gauged the hesitancy that was radiating from the fidgeting doctor. 

John quickly averted his eyes, coincidentally settling his gaze over the detective’s crotch, seeing the shape of his small soft prick resting on his thigh. Licking his dry lips nervously, John contemplated how he should approach the subject of his fantasy. 

“I...er, well I think we need to talk.” 

Sherlock instantly looked alarmed and stared at John with wide eyes, mentally checking what he might have done to put John off already. 

Feeling bad for phrasing it so clumsily, John cleared his throat as he shook his head, quickly adding, “It’s not that, Sherlock, god no. You did nothing wrong. It’s just, I think I would like to talk about ...something, well. Something more intimate.” 

John wanted to face palm himself for approaching this subject just like that. Did he go absolutely bonkers now? He and Sherlock had been in a relationship for almost three months, and it’s been going just marvelously, though they were still unsure in certain areas as John was worried that Sherlock might be easily overwhelmed. Of course they had plenty of sex and as far as John could tell Sherlock was always enthusiastic and willing to explore something new. Though for the life of him he couldn’t explain why he needed to talk about his newest discovery right after he became aware of it.

The detective frowned as he relaxed again, not understanding what the doctor was so embarrassed about. 

“Yes, John?” 

“You didn’t lock the door whilst you …took a piss.” 

John’s face went red as he added, “Why?” 

Sherlock blinked at him blankly, grasping to understand what his doctor was intending to convey. 

John bit the inside of his cheek, feeling more than self-conscious when Sherlock stared at him for a moment, eventually giving him one of his body scan looks before frowning once more. “John, while I’m not used to having anyone want to watch me urinate, I don’t object to you observing me. As for the unlocked door, I don’t find any necessity to lock it since I had never done so before, which apparently you have failed to observe.” 

An ‘oh’ escaped John’s lips. Still feeling tense what he actually wanted to talk about, he continued to stare at Sherlock’s crotch. 

“Right. So you knew I was listening to your rather long er, piss?” 

There was a split pause. John quickly looked at Sherlock’s face, finding that the detective looked somewhat speechless if not slightly flustered. 

“I... No that I was not aware of. But perhaps, that is, given your blatant interest on this subject, perhaps you’d find it of significance to learn that I prefer taking my time whilst urinating.” 

Oh. Intrigued that there was something Sherlock appeared somewhat embarrassed about, John kindly pressed the topic. 

“Are you saying you enjoy having long wee-wee’s?” 

Mortified with the doctor’s horrid choice of words, Sherlock made an affronted face, grimacing at the word ‘wee-wee’. 

“John. I don’t ‘wee-wee’.” 

“So you admit you enjoy it then?” 

Pressing his lips together, the detective nodded stiffly. 

John was surprised by this new revelation, feeling his heart jump as he thought back to when he wondered whatever or not Sherlock played with himself while he urinated. Clearing his throat, John tried to focus on what he wanted to say. _Sherlock's cock liked to wee_.

“That’s good. It’s good to know, and talk about this, er-“ 

Sherlock’s frown deepened as John kept avoiding the point of the discussion. 

“Spit it out, John.” 

Scrambling for words, John finally said, “Right, sorry. It’s just, when I heard you behind that unlocked door I realized I want to try something out with you. I enjoy the thought of you... pissing and us engaging in this area. What are your thoughts on this? I know it’s a bit …much.” 

“Much? John, don’t be obtuse. Of course if you like it I’ll engage in it.” 

“Oh. You don’t mind then?” 

Sherlock shook his head while taking off his goggles, looking at John with a curious expression. 

“Why should I? Wasn’t my previous admission evidence enough that I already am engaging in it, if only by myself?” 

Bloody hell. John suddenly felt his arousal return, aware that next time he’ll maybe get to watch his detective pee in front of his very eyes. Though John still hadn’t fully elaborated what he’d do while Sherlock did so. 

He hesitated, before he said after a moment, “And you’re fine if we get messy? Say I played with you while you... and then I'd put my hand against your weeing cock?” 

Seemingly startled at the sudden filthy words, Sherlock appeared a bit taken aback, though a lovely flush tinted the detective’s cheek. 

John glanced down just in time to see the detective’s penis twitch against the loose material of his pants, appearing to like what he had said. 

Feeling encouraged, he added, “Or if I held your lovely little prick? Watching how you make wee-wee?” 

Sherlock shifted in his chair as his cock treacherously jerked again beneath his pajamas, tip starting to poke out of the buttoned fly gap as John spoke. Flustered, Sherlock hastily crossed his legs, squeezing himself between his thighs as he tried to adjust his penis. 

Blinking rapidly, the detective looked more than just flustered that John had caught his reaction, as he stumbled over his words. 

“I, y-yes. That sounds...um, good, John.” 

John gave Sherlock his most loving smile as he straightened his back, turning to the counter to make his detective a generous cup of tea. 

“Fantastic. Then you best start drinking your next cup of tea.”


End file.
